As he came up, Zoroaster and his fourscore men threw up their hands.
"Hail, king of kings! Hail, and live for ever!" they cried, and as one man, they prostrated themselves upon their faces on the grass by the roadside.
Darius drew rein suddenly, bringing his steed from his full gallop to his haunches in an instant.

After him the rushing riders threw up their right hands as a signal to those behind; and with a deafening concussion, as of the ocean breaking at once against a wall of rock, those matchless Persian horsemen halted in a body in the space of a few yards, their steeds plunging wildly, rearing to their height and struggling on the curb; but helpless to advance against the strong hands that held them.

The blossom and flower of all the Persian nobles rode there,--their purple mantles flying with the wild motion, their bronze cuirasses black in the gathering twilight, their bearded faces dark and square beneath their gilded helmets.
"I am Darius, the king of kings, on whom ye call," cried the king, whose steed now stood like a marble statue, immovable in the middle of the road.

"Rise, speak and fear nothing,--unless ye speak lies." Zoroaster rose to his feet, then bent low, and taking a few grains of dust from the roadside, touched his mouth with his hand and let the dust fall upon his forehead.
"Hail, and live for ever! I am thy servant, Zoroaster, who was captain over the fortress and treasury of Ecbatana.

According to thy word I have brought the kinsfolk of Jehoiakim, king of Judah,--chief of whom is Nehushta, the princess.